Longmire: Upstate
by burog25c
Summary: After their trip through the mountains to South Carolina, Vic takes some inspiration from Henry's friend Mary Red Wolf. Again, Vic isn't the poster child for moderate language.


Longmire: Upstate

Okay, I'll admit it. I stole Walt's hat that morning before the start of the bike ride. This seemed like the kind of town where you could wear a cowboy hat if you pleased, or whatever. I was actually surprised by the diversity of people we'd seen already. This place was like a miniature United Nations, what with the languages we'd heard just in a few hours.

Look, we'd gotten into this little redneck town around four in the afternoon. We'd hit some family run restaurant for an early supper then toured the "city" for a bit. We'd stopped at a Barnes and Noble not far from where The Assault would begin. Walt had found a book about this "city", I refused to call this little fucking 'burg a CITY city. But it did have its charms.

The book Walt picked up had such facts as: the state of South Carolina had 138 documented Revolutionary War battle sites, some general named Daniel Morgan had evidently whipped some serious British ass at some place called Cowpens? Seriously… a place where people penned in cows? I didn't know what the fuck the Brits would want with this state, but evidently the battle had been a big fucking deal back in the day and the Navy—the freakin' NAVY—had named two ships after it. And just what the heck was a "double envelopment"?

Anyway, here we were. I looked across the street from the starting line and saw the doughnut shop that the guy up in the mountains had told me about. A neon sign saying "Hot" caught my eyes. Doughnut shop, people wandering across the road…

I tugged on Walt's arm and dragged his plodding butt across the street. We crowded in line behind several other people looking for the uber-fresh doughnuts. Looking around, I saw a few people wearing cowboy hats, so, I'd liberated Walt's beaver felt hat. No, it didn't fuckin' fit, but I pushed it back with my thumb and dared any of these Johnny Rebs to say one damned word. I was actually surprised at the lack of reaction. Back home, I knew that Walt would be looked at a time or two and there would be the smart-ass remark about whether he liked steers or queers.

We progressed through the line, got our dozen and moved back out into the crowd of bikers and bystanders. Henry waved at us from across the street and I wrestled the box out of Walt's hand, grasping a piece of fried sugar-glazed dough. _Nuts! Where the hell is my honey?_ Both were awesome, the honey, and the doughnuts, but I'd have sold half my pancreas and my left boob right then to be able to combine the two, just to see what it would be like. Walt, being the "sharing" guy that he is (and I love him for that but _Hands off my doughnuts you futz!_

We wandered over to Henry and Deana, and found them talking with Mary Red-Wolf. I'd only met her a time or two, but I liked her. She stood maybe five feet six, if she was wearing five-inch hooker heels and standing on tip-toes. I knew she was an avid bike rider, and she was well muscled all over. She looked up at all of us with her dark chocolate eyes, but somehow felt like she was the biggest person in our little group.

I guess she was. About a year and a half ago, some drunken dick-head has side-swiped her as she was out riding. She was rushed to the hospital with a mangled left leg that required amputation just above the knee. Luckily the ass-wipe that had hit her had been caught because an eyewitness saw his plates.

For Mary, this was a part of her rehab. She'd been lucky. The dumbass had good insurance for once. They'd decided to actually pay for a good prosthetic for Mary. Today, she was going to try this crazy "Assault". She'd rehabbed hard from day one, but this was a personal challenge. I admired that. I'd tried like hell to outdo Vic the Father and Vic the Son, and Lena the mother from hell. Hell, I had tried more than once to show Walt my balls were bigger than his, my mouth bigger… but Mary put us all to shame.

She'd told us not to expect her to finish first. It wasn't her goal. And since it was a self-paced race, finish positions weren't that important. What WAS important for her was DOING! I found myself choking up. Stupid fucking tears were trying to slide out and I dashed them out before Walt could see them. I'd hate for him to think I was less macho than he was. I chuckled.

After some jockeying around, the bikers all lined up, and after what I felt was too long a wait, they took off. I looked over at Walt, then Henry. Those two hard-ass bastards were crying. I didn't feel so bad about my own weaknesses. I snuggled up against Walt, lifted his arm across my shoulders and Thought how lucky we all were to be whole. Watching that little bundle of "fuck ya'll, watch this!" start her ride towards the top of a mountain, I took a deep breath. I COULD deal with my losses, and take steps to my future.

And there were still a few doughnuts left, and my honey. And friends. And Walt. Life is what we choose to make it.


End file.
